Twelve Reasons why Eleven was easier to handle
by xXdreameaterXx
Summary: Twelve situations in which Clara thinks Eleven would have been easier to handle. Humor. Nonsense. Containing Christmas dinners, Red Bull and other things. 12th Doctor annoys Clara quite a lot.
1. Part 1

**Twelve Reasons why Eleven was easier to handle**

**One**

"Are we going to have Christmas dinner with your parents again?" the Doctor asked.

"Not if my life depended on it," Clara replied, remembering last year only too well.

"Why not? I think it went well last time."

Clara gave him an angry stare. "Do you really want me to explain this to you?"

"Yes, please."

"You mean apart from the fact that you've changed faces and showed up naked last time?"

"I could wear the same outfit if it helps," the Doctor suggested.

**Two**

"Clara, I've discovered something marvellous," the Doctor shouted as he stormed into her bedroom in the middle of the night, "You won't believe it, it's really extraordinary!"

Clara sat upright in an instant, her heart beating fast in shock.

"Doctor," she said, completely out of breath, "What is it? Why are you so exhilarated?"

The Doctor proudly held up a silver-blue can that spelled "Red Bull".

"Oh God, please, tell me you didn't drink it," Clara said, completely unimpressed. She got out of bed and took the can from his hand.

"I've had five cans and you know what I noticed? What a slow talker I am. Now, I'm fast. I'm great. I feel like I could travel through the entire universe right now. Are you coming with me? Oh, doesn't look like you have a choice. You're in my TARDIS. My _TARDIS_, Clara, isn't that marvellous? Hey, what are you doing? Give it back, I haven't finished."

"And you shouldn't. Gosh, you're insufferable enough without it," Clara said angrily.

"Please, can I have it back?"

"No, no, no, no," she pushed him out of her bedroom, "And don't ever drink that again. Ever!"

"But it's said to give you wings," the Doctor explained.

"Good night, Doctor!"

**Three**

"What do you think of these wrinkles right here, Clara?" the Doctor was examining his face in the mirror.

"I'm not looking at your wrinkles. Again. They were there yesterday. And they'll be there tomorrow," Clara seemed annoyed.

"I'm not so sure about these two, though. And what about my hair? Do you think it's too grey?"

"Can _anything_ be _too grey_ or _not grey enough_?"

"Well, there are different shades of grey, Clara. I'm just wondering. By the way, have you read the book? Shades of Grey?" the Doctor asked.

"No, and I don't want to hear you mention that ever again."

"What about Twilight? Can I mention that?"

Clara rolled her eyes. "Now, which of those winkles were you talking about?"


	2. Part 2

**Four**

"You haven't touched the soufflé at all," Clara noticed as she cleaned her kitchen table.

"I didn't feel like soufflé today," the Doctor explained.

"You didn't touch it last week either. Or the week before that."

"Yeah, well. You know," the Doctor avoided her gaze.

"No, I don't. What is it?" she inquired.

The way the Doctor looked at her made the truth painfully obvious.

"Oh my God! You don't like my soufflé any more," Clara realized, "Well, I guess, new mouth – new rules."

"Actually," the Doctor continued, "I never liked it. The other one was just too polite to tell you."

"Tell me _what_ exactly?" Clara was mad.

"You should stay clear of any kitchen."

**Five**

A sound startled Clara in the middle of the night. Her bedroom was dark and she turned the light on to go looking for the source of the disturbance. She saw it immediately. Parked in the middle of her bedroom. The Doctor stormed out of his TARDIS only seconds later.

"Clara, you must see this," the Doctor exclaimed and pulled the covers away from her.

"Now? It's 3 in the morning!"

"I'm a time traveller, Clara. Such things don't matter to me. Now, are you coming?"

"You're a time traveller," Clara repeated, a great deal of annoyance audible in her voice, "You could've been here in 5 hours. When I'm awake!"

"Now, don't be such a killjoy. Come on, get dressed."

Clara threw her pillow at him and let herself fall back onto her bed.

"How are you going to sleep without pillow and blanket?" the Doctor asked.

"Give. Them. Back. Please?"

"Not gonna happen. _You_ threw the pillow, remember? If you're looking for them, you can find them in the TARDIS. Somewhere. See you in five minutes!"

"I'm gonna kill you one day!" Clara shouted after him, but only heard the word "Regeneration" coming back at her.

**Six**

"Don't you _dare_ bring that thing into the TARDIS," the Doctor shouted at Clara as she tried to step through the door.

Clara chewed, swallowed and replied: "Why not? It's only a cookie."

"My point! You'll get crumbs all over the place."

"Since when do you mind crumbs on the TARDIS floor?" Clara tried to step inside.

"Out!" shouted the Doctor, "Out! Out! Out! And don't come back in until you've finished the thingy."

"Cookie?"

"Exactly!"

5 minutes later Clara was finally allowed to enter the TARDIS, but only after the Doctor had made sure that her hands were clean.

"Doctor, you like chocolate, don't you?" Clara asked.

"Yes, why?" he said, fiddling with a few buttons on the console.

"When do you eat it?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well, I vaguely remember you eating chocolate _in_ the TARDIS. Do you step outside to do that now?" she asked, cocking her head.

"That is so completely beside the point. What do you think about ancient Egypt?"

Clara ran over to one of the book shelves, put some of the volumes aside and came back to him, holding several bars of chocolate.

"Ha!" she exclaimed.

"Put them back!" the Doctor told her.

"Never. Found your stash. You're still eating in here!"

"Yes, I am. You're not. You're too clumsy with food."

Clara started to unwrap one of the chocolate bars and threatened to have a bite.

"Stop me, Doctor."

"Clara," the Doctor said in a sinister tone, "Put them back. Now. Don't you dare!"

Clara only had time to take one bite before the Doctor started chasing her around the TARDIS.


	3. Part 3

**Seven**

The Doctor and Clara were walking through a mall when Clara discovered several tents that were built up on the corridor.

"Look, Doctor," she pointed at them, "Wouldn't it be funny if they were bigger on the inside?"

"You mean like in Harry Potter?" the Doctor asked and eyed her suspiciously.

"Exactly. I'd love to have one of those if they were bigger on the inside. Might actually make camping fun. You could have a built in shower and bedroom."

"No, those are boring. This, on the other hand, is fascinating," the Doctor walked over to a different shelf.

"I'm gonna pretend that you didn't just point at a pencil and called it fascinating."

"But it is. It's about the only thing that writes in space. That and chalk. But the first humans that went into space didn't have a chalkboard."

"Doctor," Clara said earnestly, "I think it's about time I explained the meaning of the word '_facepalm_' to you."

**Eight**

"Doctor, what IS this?" Clara stepped into her bedroom after taking a shower and discovered that the TARDIS was parked in the middle of it and the Doctor was scribbling away. . . on her walls.

"Doctor, do you hear me?"

He turned around now. "Hey Clara, I see you've finally finished showering."

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, that?" he pointed to the writings on the wall, "Well, the floor was all covered. Please, don't step on it. It might smudge."

Clara stepped on it on purpose and skidded over the floor with her bare feet.

"Why, stop it. Why are you doing that?"

Clara reached over to him and took the chalk from his hand.

"I'm gonna paint my walls white next time."

The Doctor gave her big puppy dog eyes.

"Oh noooo. That doesn't work any more," Clara said.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a 2000 year old Time Lord behaving like a 5 year old boy. Worse even."

"I'll just take that as a compliment."

"Don't you dare!"

**Nine**

Clara was roaming around the living room when she heard the TARDIS sound coming from her bedroom. She immediately went to check and found the TARDIS – with the Doctor sitting on top of it, meditation position, eyes closed.

"Uhm, Doctor?"

No answer. Clara waved. Still he didn't move.

"Doctor!" she called out again. Nothing.

Clara tried to reach and shake him, but he was too high up. She started to look around her room for an idea that could wake him from his trance. Then she found a paperback. Clara considered for a moment – and threw it. Only seconds later the book hit the ground, and after it the Doctor.

"I'm sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry," Clara said as she helped her somewhat confused Doctor back on his feet. He picked up the paperback in the process, still disoriented.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"You. You threw a book at me?!" Clara wasn't sure whether it was a question or a conclusion. He held the book in front of her face. "A book. At me. Why would you do such a thing?"

"Well, you were sitting on the roof of the TARDIS," Clara tried to defend herself.

"Oh, he's sitting on the roof of the TARDIS, let's throw books at him. Is that it?"

"I tried calling your name. You didn't respond. I wasn't even sure you were still breathing."

"Clara, here's one basic thing about biology," he said seriously, looked her straight into the eyes, "You don't check someone's breath by throwing books at them."


End file.
